Gospel Story Finder

Cameron's replacement was Alton L. Wade who was then President of Dixie College in southern Utah. Like Cameron, Wade was a high school and college star athlete and had worked in the Church Educational System for many years. Alton's teaching and administrative experience was in our target area. Before he became the Zone administrator for all the Church schools in the Pacific he had been principal of Church College in New Zealand and a temple ordinance worker. Now as President of Dixie College, he was not looking for another school to give his life to. When Elder Marvin J. Ashton asked if he would be interested in the presidency over BYU-Hawaii, Alton said no. But then Elder Ashton asked him the question that penetrated his heart: "Alton, what do you think you have been preparing for all your life?"

Like President David O. McKay and all the presidents of this campus, President Wade believed that BYU-Hawaii was an institution of prophetic destiny. Then for the next eight years he and Diana would work and serve to lift the university to a new level of performance and respect.

Thanks for the birthday card. Brenda said that she got one from you too. It’s fun to have a cousin born on the same day. Sometimes we pretend that we’re twins. Because it was our eighth birthday, we had our party together with all the cousins and aunts and uncles. Everyone went bowling—and Grandma Richards won!
Then we came to our house and played games. We had a piñata, and Mom blindfolded us and turned us around and around before we could swing the bat at it. Brenda got too dizzy and knocked a lamp off a table. It didn’t break, though. Whew!
After that, we made our own pizzas. They looked funny, but they tasted great. Because our birthdays are in the middle of July, Brenda made a pioneer face on hers and I made mine look like an American flag. Scooter wanted to put chocolate chips on my pizza for the stars, but Mom stopped him. She let him put some on his piece of cake, instead.
We had one huge birthday cake. One half was chocolate, and the other half butterscotch. It had yellow candles, and Brenda and I blew them out together. We had ice cream, too, and I ate a scoop of pralines-and-cream for you.

President Gordon B. Hinckley visited members in seven cities and dedicated a temple in Aba, Nigeria, as he traveled around the world in July and August, adding several thousand miles to his extensive travel as Church President.
President Hinckley’s meetings with members ranged from small groups gathered on airport runways to thousands of Latter-day Saints participating in cultural celebrations.
Vladivostok, Russia
While making a brief stopover for plane refueling in Russia, President Hinckley greeted 200 members at an airport in Vladivostok. President Hinckley’s visit to the city was the first by a President of the Church.
“Live the gospel and establish the work in this great place,” President Hinckley said to the group.
President Hinckley told the members that they reminded him of a small congregation of Saints he met in Korea 50 years ago. He said that group of Saints now numbers in the thousands and told the Russian Saints he believes that in the future, thousands of Saints will live in their town. President Hinckley said if they will be true and faithful the Lord will bless them.
Seoul, South Korea
President Hinckley spoke in Seoul, South Korea, to members gathered for a regional conference. The meeting was broadcast throughout the country and to locations in the United States and Australia.
President Hinckley recalled previous stopovers in Korea. He apologized for missing a cultural celebration involving 1,500 adult and youth performers the evening prior to the conference due to a travel mishap.
He said: “God has poured out His blessings upon this people, and the security and the peace and the well-being of this nation rests on the righteousness of the nation. I believe with all my heart that if the Saints will live the gospel they will be spared from war and other afflictions.”
Taipei, Taiwan, and Hong Kong, China
While visiting in Taipei, Taiwan, and Hong Kong, China, President Hinckley met with members, and he dedicated Church office buildings in both cities. Both buildings have chapels, classrooms, and Church office space.
In the meeting with members in Hong Kong, he described receiving inspiration about the Hong Kong China Temple being part of a multistory building; it was a pattern, he said, that was used again for the Manhattan New York Temple. President Hinckley also expressed his gratitude for the members. He said: “I just want to tell you how much I love you. You are wonderful people.”
Aba, Nigeria
When President Hinckley arrived in Nigeria on August 6, the day before dedicating the Aba Nigeria Temple, Latter-day Saints in Nigeria welcomed him by lining the street leading to the temple grounds. They also performed “The Day of Rejoicing,” a cultural event to celebrate the arrival of the prophet and the completion of a new temple.
The program involved nearly 1,500 youth and children who had prepared for almost a year practicing music and dance routines. Youth from five stakes in Nigeria participated in the event. The audience, including local Church leaders, parents, and the prophet, sat on chairs or stood on a sloping hill just below the temple for the program.
The day after the cultural celebration President Hinckley dedicated the Aba Nigeria temple. The temple is the third operating temple in Africa and the Church’s 121st operating temple worldwide. (See accompanying article below.)
A Million Miles
During the trip President Hinckley also met with small groups of members during brief stops in Delhi, India, and Nairobi, Kenya. He said he told the members during these visits to continue “keeping the faith, living the gospel, doing what they ought to do, taking care of their families, providing for them, giving them spiritual strength.”
To speak to countless members, President Hinckley has traveled more than one million miles since becoming fifteenth President of the Church in March 1995.
Church News contributed to this report.

The mental image of his wife also gave Viktor Frankl the strength to survive the agonies of a Nazi concentration camp: “As we stumbled on for miles, … dragging one another up and onward, … my mind clung to my wife’s image … her look was then more luminous than the sun. … for the first time in my life … I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love.” Therefore, “He who has a why to live can bear with almost any how” (Man’s Search for Meaning, 1984, 56–57, 12). His “why” was the vision of being together with his sweetheart. Full of such hope, he could live with the awful “how” of imprisonment.

When I was three years old, my family lived in Provo, Utah. A friend of my mom was visiting us and was getting ready to attend a wedding in the Salt Lake Temple. She couldn’t find her car keys. Mom helped her, but they couldn’t find them anywhere, and the friend was going to be late if she didn’t find them soon. I said, “I know what we can do to find them. We can pray to Heavenly Father. If we ask Him, we will find the keys.” Mom said that I was right, so we all knelt by the couch. I said the prayer. We all stood up to search for the keys again. Mom said, “Travis, let me tie your shoe first, so you won’t trip.” Then she exclaimed, “Look behind you!” There were the keys! We said a prayer to thank Heavenly Father for helping us. I know that prayer really works.Travis Tobias, age 5Flagstaff, Arizona

In the Martin handcart company of 1856, Brother Martin insisted that the people throw away all nonessentials so that they could reach the valley more quickly. Many children had to part with toys that they had brought. One little girl had a small cast-iron toy lion. It, too, was dumped, but she so loved the lion that during the night she went back to where they had left the discarded items, found her pet lion, put it on a string, and wore it underneath her dress all the way to the Salt Lake Valley.

Stephen Robinson, in his excellent book, “Believing Christ,” makes this point with what he calls “The Parable of the Bicycle.” I’m sure many of you are familiar with it.

For those who aren’t, I will briefly summarize it. His seven-year-old daughter, Sarah, was the only child in their neighborhood who did not have a bike, and she ardently wanted one.

Brother Robinson was not in a position to buy one for her so he suggested she conscientiously save her pennies and she would soon be able to buy it herself.

As time passed, she would regularly come to her father to show him the old fruit jar that held her money and ask if she had saved enough to get the bike. One day she said, “You promised if I saved all my pennies, pretty soon I’d have enough to get a bike. And Daddy, I’ve saved every single one.”

He realized she was doing everything in her power to follow his instructions, but her needs were still not being met. With a melting heart, he told her to gather what she had saved and they would go to the bike shop.

Sarah soon saw the bike of her dreams but it cost over $100, hopelessly beyond her means. With a heart full of love, he told her, “Let’s try a different arrangement. You give me everything you’ve got, the whole sixty-one cents, and a hug and a kiss, and the bike is all yours.”

With excitement and joy unique to children, Sarah rode the bike home while her father followed in the car. It then occurred to him that this was a parable for the atonement of Christ.

Let me read the analogy in his words:

“We all want something desperately, but it’s not a bicycle. We want the kingdom of God. We want to go home to our heavenly parents worthy and clean. But the price – perfect performance – is hopelessly beyond our means. At some point…we realize we cannot pay it. And then we despair.”

“At that point the Savior steps in and says, ‘So you’ve done all you can do, but it’s not enough. Well, don’t despair. Let’s try a different arrangement. How much do you have? You give me exactly that much and do all you can do, and I will provide the rest for now…Perfection will still be the ultimate goal, but until you can get it on your own, I’ll let you use mine.”

Margie sat quietly on the back seat of the car, her dark eyes staring out at the city buildings whirling by in the soft evening light. The weight of her sadness felt like a stone on her chest. How she wished she could have moved to Chicago with the Petersen family. They had seemed as unhappy as Margie when the unexpected word came that Brother Petersen had to report at once for his new work. She had spent two school years with them, and it was almost like parting with her own family in Arizona when she had to say good-bye. The Petersens had taught her much about their ways, and they had been eager to learn of her Apache world.
“Well, Margie,” said Brother Randall, the Church social worker, interrupting the girl’s thoughts, “a week from tonight is Christmas Eve.”
Suddenly Margie realized that she had no gifts for her new family. She had given beads she had made and a few things bought with her allowance to the Petersens. Now she had no money to buy gifts and no time to make more.
“How many children did you say the Strattons have?” she asked Sister Randall who was sitting beside her.
“Four. Vicky is ten years old—the same as you. Paul is seven, Ted is five, and the baby is the age of our Tricia.” Sister Randall reached down to pat the baby, who laughed and then grabbed the bracelet on her mother’s wrist.
“We’re in Reseda now, Margie,” Brother Randall said. “Look at the tall palm trees on both sides of the street. We turn right at the next light.”
Margie felt her heart beat faster. What if the Strattons don’t like me, she thought, and what if I don’t like them? She wondered if she would ever see the Petersens again. Then, longing to be back on the reservation, she closed her eyes and could see her mother frying bread and hear her gentle voice talking to the little ones.
The car pulled into a driveway and stopped. When Margie opened the car door to get out, she heard a shout. The front door burst open and six people rushed out of the house to greet her. Margie remembered to look into their faces as the Petersens had taught her, but it was hard to think of anything to say. Quickly her bags were carried into the house, and she waved good-bye to Brother Randall and his family.
Vicky showed Margie where to put her clothes as she unpacked in the room they would share. Before prayers and bed that night, there was time to admire the Christmas tree. There were already some brightly wrapped packages under it, and Margie saw that her name was on some of them.
Later in bed, Margie lay listening to Vicky’s quiet breathing and let the tears run silently down her cheeks. She felt sad because she missed her other families and because she had brought no Christmas gifts for this new family who had so warmly received her into their home.
The next morning Margie stood at the bedroom window watching Paul and Ted playing games on the back lawn. Vickie had already gone downstairs. There was a light rap on the open door, and Sister Stratton asked, “May I come in?”
Margie nodded and smiled shyly.
“Margie,” Sister Stratton explained, “we have a Christmas tradition in our family that we have followed for several years. Each Christmas Eve we have a special program where we learn something about the cultures of our brothers and sisters in other lands. This year we have not prepared anything, hoping that you could share with us some of the traditions of your people.”
Because of her shyness, Margie was tempted to say that she couldn’t, but seeing the kind and expectant look in Sister Stratton’s eyes, Margie nodded that she would.
On Christmas Eve Margie wore the beautiful squaw dress her mother had made for her last summer. When they had bought the trim for the yards and yards of material, Margie had remarked that it must be a mile long. Now she smiled with satisfaction as she looked into the mirror. She divided her long black hair into two sections and tied each strand with yarn to match the dress.
When it was time for the Christmas Eve program, Vicky started the record for Margie’s part, and all the other Strattons smiled their pleasure when she entered the room. Slowly, rhythmically, Margie moved with grace and ease to the beat of the drum and the chanting voices. After the dance was over, the Strattons clapped enthusiastically and then Margie told them about her family in Arizona and the customs of her people. “Now,” she said, “if you will excuse me for just a minute, I’ll make you some Apache frybread.”
In the kitchen Margie stretched the dough she had prepared earlier and dropped it into hot oil. She could hear the children’s excited chatter in the other room. Vicky and Paul were eager to learn the Apache dance. Ted insisted that he wanted to play the drums and “say” the songs.
Brother Stratton came into the kitchen and put his arm around Margie. “Margie, this has been one of the nicest Christmas Eves we have ever had. Thank you for giving us so much!”
Margie smiled shyly and handed him a plate of frybread.

Recently my husband, Greg, received a diagnosis that would require an intensive surgery and months of chemotherapy. Like many of you who have faced a similar situation, we immediately began praying for heaven’s help and God’s power. The Sunday following Greg’s surgery, the sacrament was delivered to our hospital room.
On this occasion, I was the only one taking the sacrament. One piece of bread. One cup of water. At church, my mind often focuses on the delivery system of the sacrament—the preparing, the blessing, and the passing. But on that afternoon, I pondered the gift of God’s power available to me through the sacred ordinance itself and the covenant promise I was making as I took that piece of bread and that cup of water. This was a time when I needed power from heaven. In the midst of great heartache, exhaustion, and uncertainty, I wondered about this gift that would allow me to draw upon the power from Him that I so desperately needed. Partaking of the sacrament would increase my companionship with the Spirit of the Lord, allowing me to draw upon the gift of God’s power, including the ministering of angels and the Savior’s enabling strength to overcome.
I don’t think I had ever realized with this much clarity before that it’s not only who officiates in the ordinance that matters—what the ordinance and our covenant promise unlock also deserves the focus of our attention. Priesthood ordinances and covenant promises allow God to sanctify us and then work wonders in our lives. But how does this happen?
First, in order for an ordinance to manifest the power of God in our lives, it must be done with authority from the Son of God. The delivery system is important. The Father entrusted Jesus Christ with the keys and authority to oversee the delivery of His priesthood ordinances. Under His direction, within the order of His priesthood, the sons of God have been ordained to stand in place of the Son of God.
Second, we don’t just make covenant promises—we must keep them. In many gospel ordinances, we make sacred covenants with God; He promises to bless us as we keep those covenants. Do we realize it is the combination of priesthood ordinances along with the keeping of covenant promises that allows us to draw upon God’s power?
That afternoon I wondered if I, a covenant daughter of God, fully understood how to access the gift of God’s power through priesthood ordinances and if I truly recognized how God’s power works within me.
In 2019 a prophetic invitation was extended to the women of the Church, teaching us how to draw the Savior’s power into our lives. President Russell M. Nelson invited us to study Doctrine and Covenants 25, a revelation given to Emma Smith in Harmony, Pennsylvania. Accepting that invitation changed my life.
Last month I had an unexpected opportunity to visit Harmony. There, under the maple trees, the priesthood was restored to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery. Close to those trees is the front door of Joseph and Emma’s home. Across from the fireplace in that home there is a window. I stood at that window and wondered what Emma might have thought as she looked out across the trees.
In July of 1830, Emma was 26 years old; she was so young. She was three and a half years into her marriage. She had lost a baby boy—her first. His little grave is just down the lane from her home. As I stood at that window, it was not hard for me to imagine what might have filled her thoughts. Surely she worried about their finances, about the increasing persecution that threatened their safety, about their future. And yet the work of God was everywhere around her. Did she also wonder about her place in the plan, her purpose in His kingdom, and her potential in the eyes of God?
I think she may have.
Just across the way, the gift of God’s priesthood authority and keys had been restored to the earth. This was a time when Emma actually needed power from heaven. In the midst of great heartache, exhaustion, and uncertainty, I imagine Emma wondered about this gift of God’s priesthood that could unlock the power from Him that she so desperately needed.
But Emma didn’t just stand at that window and wonder.
While the Prophet Joseph was being tutored in keys, offices, ordinances, and how to assist in the service of the priesthood, the Lord Himself, through His prophet, gave a revelation to Emma. Not Nauvoo-Relief-Society-president Emma—this revelation was given to 26-year-old Emma in Harmony. Through revelation, Emma would learn about the inward sanctification and covenant connection that would increase the ability of those priesthood ordinances to work in her life.
First, the Lord reminded Emma of her place in His plan, including who she was and whose she was—a daughter in His kingdom. She was invited to “walk in the paths of virtue,” a path that included ordinances that would unlock God’s power if Emma held on to her covenants.
Second, in her season of deep mourning, the Lord gave her purpose. Emma didn’t just have a front-row seat to the Restoration; she was an essential participant in the work taking place. She would be set apart “to expound scriptures, and to exhort the church.” Her time would “be given to writing, and to learning much.” Emma was given a sacred role to help prepare the Saints to worship; their songs unto the Lord would be received as prayers and “answered with a blessing upon their heads.”
Last, the Lord outlined a process of inward sanctification that would prepare Emma for exaltation. “Except thou do this,” the Lord explained to her, “where I am you cannot come.”
If we read section 25 carefully, we discover an important progression taking place. Emma would go from being a daughter in the kingdom to “elect lady” to queen. Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthood ordinances, combined with the keeping of her covenant promises, would increase her companionship with the Spirit and with angels, empowering her to navigate her life with divine guidance. Through His divine power, God would heal her heart, enlarge her capacity, and transform her into the version of herself He knew she could become. And through the ordinances of the Melchizedek Priesthood, “the power of godliness [would be] manifest” in her life, and the Lord would part the veil so she could receive understanding from Him. This is what it looks like for God’s power to work within us.
President Russell M. Nelson taught:
“Everything that happened in [Harmony] has profound implications for your lives. The restoration of the priesthood, along with the Lord’s counsel to Emma, can guide and bless each of you. …
“… Accessing the power of God in your life requires the same things that the Lord instructed Emma and each of [us] to do.”
There were important things happening on both sides of that window in Harmony, including the revelation given to the elect lady whom the Lord had called—a revelation that would strengthen, encourage, and instruct Emma Smith, God’s daughter.
When our granddaughter Isabelle was given a name and a blessing, her father blessed her with an understanding of the priesthood; that she would continue to grow in and learn about the blessing it would provide in her life; and that her faith in the priesthood would grow as she continued to grow in understanding.
It is not often a little girl is blessed to understand the priesthood and to learn how those priesthood ordinances and covenant promises will help her to access God’s power. But I remembered Emma and thought to myself, Why not? This tiny daughter has the potential to become an elect lady in His kingdom and eventually a queen. Through His priesthood ordinances and the keeping of her covenant promises, God’s power will work in and through her to help her overcome whatever life brings and become the woman God knows she can become. This is something I want each girl in the kingdom to understand.
“Live up to your privileges.”
Learn how priesthood ordinances and covenant promises will allow God’s power to flow into your life with greater efficacy, working in and through you, empowering and equipping you to reach your full purpose and potential.
Carefully study and ponder the Aaronic and the Melchizedek Priesthood ordinances, the covenant promises we make with each, and the power of God we access through those ordinances.
Remember, it’s not only who officiates in the ordinance that matters; what the ordinance and your covenant promise unlock also deserves the focus of your attention.
Partaking of the bread and water is a weekly reminder of His power working in you to help you overcome. Wearing the garment of the holy priesthood is a daily reminder of the gift of His power working in you to help you become.
We all have access to the gift of God’s power.
Every time we partake of the sacrament.
Every time we cross the threshold of a temple.
This is the highlight of my Sabbath. This is why I cherish my temple recommend.
“In the ordinances thereof, the power of godliness is manifest.”
Of this gift I bear witness in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness includes a mortal experience where all of His children will be tested and face trials. Five years ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I have felt and still feel the physical pains from surgeries, radiation treatments, and medication side effects. I have experienced emotional struggles during torturous sleepless nights. Medical statistics indicate I will probably depart mortality earlier than I ever expected, leaving behind, for a season, a family who means everything to me.
Many suffering Saints have shared with me how they felt God’s love during their trials. I vividly recall my own experience at one point in my cancer battle when the doctors had not yet diagnosed the cause of some severe pain. I sat with my wife, intending to offer a routine blessing on our lunch. Instead, all I could do was simply weep, “Heavenly Father, please help me. I am so sick.” For the next 20 to 30 seconds, I was encircled in His love. I was given no reason for my illness, no indication of the ultimate outcome, and no relief from the pain. I just felt of His pure love, and that was and is enough.

I have witnessed and been greatly impressed by the sacrifices many members endure to get to the temple. Let me share one such story.

In 1976, when we were living in Costa Rica, the mission president asked my husband to help organize the first trip from the mission to a temple. The Central America Mission then included Costa Rica, Panama, Nicaragua, and Honduras. The closest temple was the Mesa Arizona Temple. The trip required us to travel five days each way, crossing six borders. The financial sacrifice for most of those who went was great. They sold their television sets, bikes, skates, and anything else they could sell. We traveled in two uncomfortable buses day and night. Some of the members had used all their money to pay for the bus fare and had taken only crackers and margarine to eat on the way.

I have never forgotten the great outpouring of the Spirit we experienced during the three days we spent at the Mesa Temple. I was deeply touched as I watched family members embrace each other with tears streaming down their faces after being sealed for the eternities.

Twenty-four years later the temple in San José, Costa Rica, was dedicated. Among those present at the session I attended were many of the families who had gone on that first temple excursion. They had waited faithfully and worthily for this sacred moment. They all can now attend the temple often because a temple in Panama was recently dedicated, and a temple in Honduras has been announced.

“Each week for several weeks I gave a lady with five children in our ward a few hours to herself. Babysitting five kids is not easy. At times I could have pulled my hair out, but I survived and without losing my temper. I helped the children each transfer one of their drawings onto a quilt block, and we made a special quilt for their mother. Doing good works for someone else gave me a warm feeling inside.”
Heather BellMeridian Idaho East Stake

Photograph courtesy of Dane W.
In high school, I struggled with a lot of anxiety and depression, so I ended up dropping out. For about five years, I distanced myself from the Church and from family. About that time, I also started using drugs and alcohol to cope with how alone I felt.
It was a pretty dark time.
At one point, my mom learned about BYU–Pathway Worldwide and started encouraging me to join. An education was something I had always wanted, but my previous experiences with school had crushed my confidence.
I dismissed my mom’s offer at first, but within that week, I looked up BYU–Pathway online. It seemed like a pretty good fit for me. Despite my doubts, I decided to go for it. At the same time, I started working to align my life with the gospel again.
When I first started my courses, I felt awkward and out of place. I hadn’t been active in the Church for years, but the people in my classes were from all walks of life and showed me I didn’t need to be perfect to be there.
Soon I began to feel more of the Spirit and like things were heading in the right direction. Before, I had felt like I was failing at everything in life. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was progressing both academically and spiritually.
Feeling the Spirit through my education helped me get back in tune with my testimony and brought clarity to my mind. Because I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were with me, I had the confidence to do things I didn’t think I could do before when I was surrounded by darkness. After everything I had been through, I’d never felt that getting an education was within my reach—BYU–Pathway changed that for me and helped me have faith in myself and in Jesus Christ again.
Dane W., Utah, USA

The first face I think of is that of my mother. I remember going with her to visit the sick, feed the hungry, and comfort the weary. She never pulled a handcart and was never the first to enter a valley, yet she was a pioneer. Sometimes we went to a home where someone was dying, and my mother would bathe and feed her. Sometimes we went to a nearby Indian village to deliver clothing and food or teach home medical skills.

I think, too, of Barbara Taylor, whom I met in 1962, on the day I entered Hong Kong as a new missionary. Sister Taylor was the wife of President Robert Sherman Taylor, president of the Southern Far East Mission. The day after I arrived, she took me visiting teaching. With a couple of sister missionaries who could speak Cantonese, we took a bus to the harbor, then a ferry to a place called Aberdeen.

Among the homes we visited were some dug out of the side of a hill. We reached these homes by hiking up hand-dug stairs, scattering chickens and children as we climbed. As we visited with one sister—a beautiful young Chinese mother—I saw and felt things I had not felt before. I looked at the refugee families on the side of that hill and realized they were children of God who deserved all the help I could give them in making sense of life on earth with all the challenges they faced. All around me were hosts of waiting youth, speaking a language I could not understand—yet communicating with me through smiles and feelings, eager to learn and grow and help.

Maxine Grimm stands out in my mind as an honored pioneer. I met her in the Philippines in 1964, when there was only one branch of the Church and fewer than one hundred members. With her husband, Peter Grimm (we called him “Grimm-pa”), this remarkable woman helped unfurl the flag of truth in that beautiful island nation.

Sister Grimm had been a Red Cross volunteer during World War II and had remained in the Philippines after the war to help the new Church members there. I clearly remember her arriving at our small place at 7-D Kamias Road to help us begin the first Relief Society in Quezon City. She would always bring copies of the Relief Society Magazine for the sisters to borrow, as well as her portable pump organ so we could sing the hymns together—all six of us.

Many beautiful faces among those first few Latter-day Saints in the Philippines will be etched in my memory forever. One of many that could represent them all is the face of Salud Dizon Jimenez, the first convert to be baptized in Quezon City. She later became the Relief Society president when a branch was organized in that huge city near the Philippine capital of Manila. Sister Jimenez and many like her would often travel for hours on jeepneys and buses to Taft Avenue in Pasay, where we held all our Church meetings. Others followed in the footsteps of those great pioneers, and today the Philippines is blessed by nearly 300,000 members in forty-seven stakes. A temple graces the city of Manila.

I see in my mind another pioneer woman who helped the families in a Monclova, Mexico, branch make their homes learning centers. I met her on a Sunday in September 1975. Adelita happily showed me the things she had done in her own home to motivate her children to study, then told of things she was doing to help the other sisters in the branch teach their children better study habits. Adelita herself was illiterate, yet she placed great value on education. Humble and gracious, she desired only to serve.

I think of the Saints in the little village of Bermejillo, Mexico, where I went with some health missionaries in 1975. As we walked along a dusty road with the branch president and his wife, we were taught how to pick out the homes of Church members. Their fences and homes were painted, and vegetable and flower gardens accented their neat and tidy yards. As we passed several homes, the branch president’s wife told us, “These people are not active right now, so you can’t tell they’re Latter-day Saints. But soon they’ll be back with us, and on your next visit you can pick them out, too.” Eventually the members in this branch built their own chapel.

The beautiful face of Sister Pai on the Altiplano in Bolivia fills my memory with a warm glow. I visited her and her family in January 1975. They had been members of the Church for only three months, but in that time they had learned that President Spencer W. Kimball had encouraged Church members to have gardens. I was thrilled to see their two small vegetable gardens and a flower garden. Each night they covered their three gardens with plastic sheets to protect their treasures from freezing.

I shall never forget their family home evening, held in the warmest spot in the home—on their bed. Of that experience I wrote in my journal: “The rain and the cold, the walk and the mud were all well worth it. I would have walked one hundred miles to visit with this family and have the privilege of feeling their spirit and their enthusiasm in being members of the Church and learning principles which help them to be healthier and happier.” Blessed, honored pioneers.

I think of the woman I met in the Dominican Republic right after Christmas in 1983. Some missionaries and I were sitting in her San Francisco home as she told us of the dramatic changes Church membership had brought into her life. I was impressed with her courage in blazing trails through habits and traditions she felt needed to be changed. My faith was strengthened as this great pioneer soul spoke of her deepest feelings about Jesus Christ and her joy in discovering the gospel.

I cried as I had to leave. We had been together for only a short while, yet I felt as if I had known her forever. As my companions and I walked down the street, I kept looking back to wave. She was still waving back as we turned a corner and lost sight of her radiant face.

Many of the pioneer faces in my mind are the faces of friends in Nigeria, West Africa. When I first arrived there in January 1984, I met Cecilia and learned of her creative pioneering in what seemed to me the overwhelming task of day-to-day living. I said, “You are my teacher.”

She responded, “I will be your teacher.”

I told her that I didn’t know if I could learn very fast, because she had so much to teach me. She smiled gently and said, “I will teach slowly.”

And she did. I lived as Cecilia’s neighbor for several months, and I will be grateful all my life for the things she helped me learn. I am a better pioneer because of this great soul and others in our neighborhood who allowed me to follow in their footsteps for a little while.

One of the most important lessons I learned in Africa was to examine my priorities and values. In one of our Relief Society lessons there, the manual recommended that children should be helped to keep their drawers clean and neat. One of the sisters asked, “What is a drawer?”

So many great Latter-day Saints, honored pioneers, will be exalted without ever having seen a drawer, owned a new dress, used a time planner, or gazed into a mirror. They will rejoice in the celestial kingdom having never walked through Temple Square or visited Relief Society headquarters in Salt Lake City.

It still amuses me that my companion, Ann, and I were sent to teach Cecilia and others about self-reliance. While I hope we were able to share some information about health and sanitation that made a difference for them, I know that I personally learned the greatest lessons. Most of those lessons I learned from them had to do with self-reliance. I’m convinced that Cecilia and her sisters can handle any emergency. Forging onward, ever onward, they are indeed blessed, honored pioneers.

I first met Sally Pilobello in the Philippines in 1972 when I was sent there as a health missionary. I learned that she and her husband had lost their first baby when the baby was five months old. Sally had other children, but she now was pregnant with another and asked me, “What can I do to have a healthy Mormon baby?” I thought of her courage and faith as she responded to truth and adopted some new habits and traditions. Soon people in the neighborhood were sharing the news: “Mormon baby is coming!”

On 20 January 1973, Sarah Pilobello was born—a healthy, beautiful “Mormon baby.” Her mother’s pioneer spirit had enabled her to do things she had not done before—to add more truth to what she already knew. Sally used to smile at me and say, “Sister, you can never teach an old dog new tricks.” Then she’d pause and add: “But Sister, I am not a dog!”

In 1984 I received a letter from eleven-year-old Sarah—“Little Melon” to her family and friends: “I’m sorry that I have not written for a long time because every time I’m going to start my letter my playmates are insisting me to play with them. Now I firmly decided to write to you. We are glad that Mommy is doing what the family preparedness program of the welfare missionaries taught them. We now purify our water and have a balanced diet. That is why we grow faster than the other children. The temple is now being made and I hope I’ll see you there. I love you. Little Melon.”

I also received a letter from her mother, my dear friend Sally: “I want to express my gratitude for the things I have learned which are making such a difference in my family. I realize now that some of the things my mother taught me—things her mother taught her—were not correct. But the truths I’m learning will now be taught to my children, and to their children, and to the generations to come. We will not be damned any longer by ignorance. ‘Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free!’ As they say, it is never too late to learn and change. God must love us dearly to allow us to have so much truth.”

When I first arrived in Indonesia in 1976 I met a group of pioneers in central Java who helped me understand much, much more about the meaning of words such as relief, compassion, and service. These Relief Society sisters, led by their president, Ibu Subowo, were giant souls in small bodies. Every morning before they began their cooking, each sister would hold back a spoonful of rice. They kept the rice in plastic bags that they brought to Relief Society each week. After the meeting, they would gather and prayerfully consider who needed a visit. All would then go together to visit those in need, taking the bags of rice with them to share with those who had less than they did.

Consecration. The Lord’s storehouse. A society of interdependent Saints. I learned much about sacrifice, wondering what my equivalent of a spoonful of rice would be.

I’ve thought a lot about Enos’s comment toward the end of his short narrative in the Book of Mormon. He felt sure that he would someday meet the Lord and “see his face with pleasure” (Enos 1:27). There are many faces on this earth that I hope someday to see with pleasure again. Among them are those of the women who have taught me much about pioneering—about having service as a watchword and love as a guiding star.

We’re all pioneers. Across the years, and across the miles, we blaze our trails through our personal wild frontiers. In a wide variety of circumstances, we cross our plains, sing our songs, bury our dead, deal with our personal sorrows, bear one another’s burdens, visit, comfort, and show compassion. Blessed, honored pioneers!

Fourth: One afternoon last summer at home here in Rexburg I picked up the Saturday, June 7th Church News and sat down in the family room to read and relax. I read a report of President Monson making a trip to Curitiba, Brazil, to dedicate the new temple there. I read the following report of the Cornerstone Ceremony. After General Authorities and the temple presidency and their wives participated, President Monson looked around and saw a group of children who had been invited to stand on the platform erected for the ceremony. Among them was a 6-year old Lincoln Vieira Cordeiro, who appeared to be very cold; he was wearing a winter coat and a hat with flaps that covered his ears. President Monson invited him to place some mortar on the cornerstone. Lincoln's hat was removed so that his face could be seen in photos and video footage recording the historic event. His head had no hair. President Monson guided Lincoln in placing mortar around the cornerstone, and then invited several other people to participate.
Then he announced it was time to conclude that part of the ceremony. However, he paused, looked around the crowd of onlookers and said that there was someone else who needed to be called upon. He walked around the platform. He looked to his left, and said he wondered who that person might be. He turned to his right. Several dozen people stood on the ground between him and a choir that performed at the outdoor ceremony. He kept looking, saying that he knew that there was one particular person who ought to be invited to place mortar around the stone. Finally, his eyes rested upon a woman. He pointed to her, and invited her to come join in the ceremony. Later President Monson was told that the woman, whom he had never met, was Odilene Cordeiro, Lincoln's mother.
The Church News then quoted Elder Russell M. Nelson who was with President Monson that day: "Of all the people he could have called upon to participate, it was that boy's mother," said Elder Nelson, "That said to me that Heavenly Father is communicating to His prophet, and that President Monson is responding. That was not just Thomas S. Monson standing there. That was the prophet responding to a revelation as it flowed from heaven through him to bless that mother who has gone through so much in caring for her son who is so sick. President Monson had no way of knowing who that woman was, or that the little boy he called upon has cancer. But the Lord knew."

On 15 May 2020, I asked myself if there really was a God.
On 13 May 2020 our lives changed dramatically. Luke was taken into hospital having suffered a stroke. In the accident and emergency room I was asked for my permission to give Luke a clot-busting drug. I consulted with John who had been waiting outside; I had been allowed in because Luke was unable to speak and understand what the doctors were saying to him. We gave permission for the drug to be given to him. Despite COVID-19 restrictions, thankfully we were allowed to be with him throughout his stay in hospital because of his special needs.
On the evening of 14 May, a doctor approached me and said they needed to operate urgently on Luke and remove part of his skull as his brain had swollen, probably due to the drug he was given. We had been told there could be side effects but without it he probably would not have lived for long. John and I sat in a very small room for about four hours during that night until a doctor came and told us that the operation had gone well.
On 15 May, having been moved to a different ward, he started having seizures and went back into critical care where we were not allowed to be with him, because of COVID-19 protocols. That is when I asked the question, “Is there really a God?” How could this happen to this special child of God who had come to earth to teach his parents and others what the gospel was about. The thought only lasted a few seconds. I had had so many spiritual experiences during my life that I couldn’t deny that God existed, but the question of why this was happening to such an innocent soul plagued me.
However, over time we have learned that we have been taught many lessons through this experience that have drawn us closer to God and closer as a family. My only wish is that we could have learned this in a way that did not affect Luke, as it has been a real challenge for him at times trying to understand the additional limitations he now has. Our children have been wonderful, and the experience has brought us all closer to each other. Church members and special friends have been great, helping us in many ways with their generosity. One thing is sure, we have come to know our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ even more, and the Holy Ghost has been our companion bringing comfort and guidance to our souls.
At the time of writing, Luke needs to be in a wheelchair; having lost the use of his right hand and arm, plus weakness in his leg. There are several things he cannot do any more, but his fighting spirit pushes him do as much as he can for himself. Do I wish it hadn’t happened? Of course. Was there any other way that I could have learned the lessons I am learning now? I don’t know, but I do know that when Luke, John and I pass through the veil, all things will be made clear. I will bow down with tears in my eyes and thank the Lord for sending this special child to live with us, so that we could learn from him how to be more Christlike in our lives.

I served in the United States Navy during World War II. I started in the lowest ranks. After the war ended, I decided that if I ever had to serve in the military again, I wanted to be an officer instead. So I went to drill meetings. I studied. I took exams. Finally I got a letter that said I was accepted! I showed my wife and said, “I made it!” She gave me a hug and told me I had worked hard.
But then something happened. I was called to be a counselor in my ward bishopric. The bishop’s council meeting was on the same night as my navy drill meetings. I knew that I couldn’t do both. I prayed about it. Then I went to see the man who was my stake president when I was a boy, Elder Harold B. Lee, who later became the prophet. I told him how much I wanted to become an officer. I even showed him the copy of the letter I had received.
After thinking about things for a moment, he said to me, “Here’s what you should do, Brother Monson. You write a letter to the navy and tell them you can’t accept the commission as an officer.”
My heart sank. Another war was starting, and if I was called to go back into the military, I wanted to be an officer. Elder Lee put his hand on my shoulder and in a fatherly way said, “Brother Monson, have more faith. The military is not for you.”
I went home and did what he said. Six weeks later, I was called to be a bishop. I would not hold the position in the Church I hold today if I had not followed the counsel of a prophet and prayed about that decision. I learned an important truth: the wisdom of God sometimes looks foolish to men (see 1 Corinthians 2:14). But when God speaks and His children obey, they will always be right. When you follow the prophets, you will be in safe territory.

In order to better understand this principle, please consider Aesop’s fable “The Hare and the Tortoise.” After being taunted repeatedly for being slow, the Tortoise challenged the Hare to a race. As the race began, the two started off together. However, the Hare ran rapidly towards the goal and, seeing that he could easily win, lay down and fell asleep a short distance in front of the finish line. The Tortoise maintained a slow but steady and consistent pace toward the finish line. When the Hare awoke from his nap, he started running as fast as he could, only to find that the Tortoise had won the race. The Tortoise is a classic illustration of steadiness and persistence. The Hare, on the other hand, is an example of a “spurter”—one who is given to short bursts of spectacular effort followed by frequent and lengthy periods of rest.

Sweat trickled down Jake’s brow; he wiped it off with his hand. “Wow! A guy sure gets hot playing pirates!” “Yeah,” agreed Zack as he laid his homemade sword on the ground. “Hey! Let’s go get ice-cream bars down at the market! We have some money left from the aluminum cans that we turned in.”
The store’s freezer felt cool and soothing to the boys as they leaned against it to view the tasty confections through the glass. While Zack was deciding which flavor he wanted, he glanced at a display of Super Squirt Guns. His squirt gun wasn’t a very good one, and he always lost the shoot-out when he and Jake played cowboys. Maybe with a Super Squirt Gun he could beat Jake next time.
As Zack looked back at the mouth-watering ice-cream bars, he remembered how hot he was. He looked at the squirt guns again, knowing that he had only enough money for one or the other. Then he had an idea. I’ll buy the squirt gun and slip the ice-cream bar into my sock. No one will ever know. I’ll pay for it the next time I come here for Mom.
Jake opened the freezer and removed a frozen fudge bar. “What flavor do you want?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll meet you at the counter,” Zack replied.
“OK,” Jake said as he walked toward the checkout counter.
As Zack watched Jake go, he didn’t see his Primary teacher, Brother Griffin, stacking shelves at the other end of the aisle.
Brother Griffin watched Zack take a fudge bar, slip it into his sock, close the freezer, grab a Super Squirt Gun from the rack, then hurry to join Jake at the counter. Sighing with disappointment, the grocer went to the counter to ring up the boys’ purchases. He was concerned for his young friend. He had never thought that Zack would be a shoplifter. How can I help Zack understand that stealing even a small item isn’t what Heavenly Father wants us to do? As he stepped up to the cash register, he noticed the boys’ swords, and they gave him an idea. “Good afternoon, boys. Why, you look like two fearsome pirates!”
“Hot ones, too,” Jake declared, digging his money out of his pocket.
As Zack placed the squirt gun on the counter, chocolate ice cream trickled into his shoe. He wished that Brother Griffin would hurry and ring up his purchase, but the grocer picked up Jake’s sword for a closer look, instead.
With admiration in his voice, he asked, “Did you boys make these fine swords yourself?”
“Yes,” Jake replied as he started to lick his ice cream.
Zack’s mouth watered as he watched Jake. Then his attention switched to his foot. It was getting stickier every minute that they stood there!
But Brother Griffin started talking to him. “You know, Zack, when I was a boy, I used to play pirates, too, and my friends and I made hats out of newspaper.” He fumbled under the counter. “Hey! I have some newspapers right here! Would you like me to show you how to make one?”
“Well, we really need to be going,” Zack said.
Jake shook his head. “No we don’t!” he countered, taking a bite of his ice cream. “That’d be neat, Brother Griffin.”
Zack wriggled his toes, and melted ice cream oozed between them. He looked at the squirt gun, still sitting on the counter, and rubbed the coins in his pocket with his fingers. Then he looked up at Brother Griffin happily folding a pirate hat out of newspaper for them. Zack didn’t feel good inside. In fact, he felt like his foot, cold and icky.
“There!” Brother Griffin announced as he completed the hat and placed it on Zack’s head.
“Can I try making my own?” asked Jake, finishing the last of his ice cream.
“Sure,” Brother Griffin responded. “Zack, too, if he wants to make another one.”
Zack shook his head, knowing what he had to do, instead. While Brother Griffin coached Jake on how to make his pirate hat, Zack put the squirt gun back on the rack. Returning to the counter, he took a deep breath and blurted, “Brother Griffin, I’d like to pay for my ice cream too.”
“But you didn’t get any ice cream,” Jake said.
“Yes I did—it’s in my sock,” Zack removed the dripping ice-cream wrapper from his soggy stocking, placed his coins on the counter for payment, and added, “I’m sorry that I was going to take the ice cream without paying for it. I was going to pay you later, but that still doesn’t make it right.”
“I’m glad that you chose to be honest, Zack,” Brother Griffin said as he rang up the sale. “You’re a fine young man.”

Wilford Woodruff’s family suffered along with the others. In October, while Wilford cut timber, a falling tree struck him and broke some of his ribs. Soon after, his little son Joseph caught a severe cold. Wilford and Phebe attended to the boy constantly, but nothing they did helped, and soon they buried his body in the settlement’s newly plotted cemetery.
Some weeks after Joseph’s death, Phebe delivered a baby prematurely, and the child died two days later. One evening, Wilford came home and found Phebe distraught, looking at a portrait of herself holding Joseph. Losing the children pained them both, and Wilford longed for when the Saints would find a home, live in peace, and enjoy the blessings and safety of Zion.
“I pray my Heavenly Father to lengthen out my days,” he wrote in his journal, “to behold the house of God stand upon the tops of the mountains and to see the standard of liberty reared up as an ensign to the nations.”27